I opened my eyes, weary and powerless. My body felt unbearably heavy—I was lying on the floor, unable to move. All I could do was blink slowly and try to piece together what had happened.
But nothing came. No names, no faces. Not even my own. Aside from a faint trace of common sense, my mind was a void.
Strangely, I wasn't afraid. No panic. No confusion. It was as if forgetting everything was... normal.
Little by little, my body began to respond. I forced myself to sit up, each motion sluggish and stiff. As I moved, a red envelope slipped from my lap and fluttered to the floor.
It looked like it had been soaked in blood—deep crimson, almost too vivid to be real. The flap was open, and inside I could see a sliver of white paper.
The whole scene felt like the beginning of a twisted game, the kind where you're given a single clue and expected to find your way out. I let out a faint, dry laugh. My bones creaked as I bent down to retrieve the envelope. Why was my body so exhausted, yet uninjured?
Still, there was one small relief: despite the ominous appearance of the envelope, the letter inside looked perfectly ordinary.
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A magnificent castle, June 25th, 3054
Dear Sophie Bernard,I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, especially if you're the one who found this letter first instead of me. I miss you deeply, but there were things I had to take care of to ensure you could wake up safely.
If everything went as planned, I'll be back in the room at the end of the hallway on the third floor of the castle. You can wait for me there.
I love you,Pierre Lefevre
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Dear Julienne Charpentier,
I am Théo Girard, your childhood friend. I don't know what has happened to you, but I found you unconscious with this letter on you. Something went wrong, and I couldn't wait for you to wake up before I left.
Please don't let the message above mislead you. I tried countless times to erase the text and even to remove this letter from the room—but I couldn't destroy it or take it with me. I had no choice but to try writing underneath, and strangely... it worked.
What I'm about to tell you may sound strange, but please, trust me.
You are Julienne Charpentier. Sophie Bernard is my girlfriend, and you're very close to her. (You may not remember that.) We're here because she disappeared—and we've been trying to find her ever since.
Too much has happened for me to explain it all now, but you must remember these words:
Do not go to the third floor of the castle.The room you're in now is the safest place.Do not leave it.
Wait for me.
Théo Girard
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My dear Sophie,
You sent me a text asking me to come find you—so how is it that you're lying here like this? I can't wake you up or even move you. And this letter… it's really strange. I doubt this is some kind of joke. How could Théo write something like that? You're clearly his girlfriend.
And who is Pierre Lefevre? I've never heard of him.
After reading what "Théo" wrote, I also tried tearing the letter. He was right about that part—I couldn't destroy it or take it with me.
...
Damn it, where did Théo go? I can't move you on my own. I've tried so many times to get you to stir. Maybe we should both go on a diet when we get out of here???
...
There was a man named Étienne Moreau who happened to pass by the room, but neither he nor I could move you—so I guess it's not really about your weight after all.
...
We've decided to go ask the head of the castle what's going on. So, if you wake up before we get back, you can wait for me in the first room at the top of the stairs on the third floor (my room).
Don't worry if you don't want to go up to the third floor—I'll come back to get you after we've spoken to the castle's director.
Yours,Julienne
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To be honest, I was sober enough to read part of the text—then I got distracted.
Sophie Bernard—Pierre Lefevre—Julienne Charpentier—Théo Girard—Étienne Moreau.
Alright. Not a single one of those names rings a bell.And speaking of texts, I don't actually seem to have any sort of communication device on me.
The most pressing question was whether or not I should leave this room.It was only then that I began to take a serious look around.
It was a large bedroom. An old canopy bed stood in the center, its headboard carved from fine oak—calm, elegant. The sheets were a deep crimson velvet, heavy and luxurious, the faint folds revealing the faded dignity of an old royal court. A second layer of embroidered covers lay atop the bedding, adorned with interwoven threads of gold and silver—each inch of fabric radiating an aristocratic charm, delicate craftsmanship in every detail.
Yes... the bedroom. But I had no idea how long I'd been asleep on the floor.
A delicate oil painting hung on the wall—its characters and landscape exuding a classical elegance. The frame was simple, yet refined, carved and inlaid with gold leaf—not too extravagant, but far from plain.
It was a beautiful room. But—
The lack of windows was unsettling.
I scanned the room again but found nothing else of note. Letting out a quiet sigh, I made my way toward the closed door.I placed my hand on the handle, half expecting resistance. But to my surprise, the door opened effortlessly, revealing the hallway outside in full view.